My burden Alone
by Mori Winchester
Summary: After the ten year anniversary of the death of Sam and Dean Winchester, Castiel decides to end to end his life, until Meg, newly rescued from 15 years of hell, saves him.
1. Chapter 1

_It was finally over. His worthless exsistance, his lost cause. And he rejoiced for the first time in years. Happiness filled his body as he tied the rope around his ceiling fan, pulling it over him and he stood on his toes in the desk chair. No one would mind if he was gone. Heaven was in shambles, Sam and Dean were dead, and his purpose was gone._

_Hell didn't seem like such a bad place. Surely it was where he was destined. It was his fault. Everything was his fault. _

_And so he took in one last breath, and kicked the stool out from under him, he struggled at first, but forcefully relaxed as his lungs pleaded for air. What was that thing she said? "We're going to Heaven…"_

"Clarence!" as black blossomed over his vision, a familiar voice cried out. It was probably Leena, here to collect rent, only to find her tenant hanging from the fan. But her voice was different. It was…beautiful.

The next thing Castiel knew was that he was on the floor, the restraint of the rope gone and air flying into his lungs. As his vision slowly returned, he saw a woman's face shaking him.

"God damnit Castiel!" He real name. No one knew his angelic name.

And then he saw her face in perfect clarity. "Meg?" he rasped.

"What the fuck were you thinking?"

He didn't have an answer. Instead he stared up at that face he never saved, the one demon he trusted and lost. "Meg."

"Yeah."

"You came back."

"It wasn't easy," she was helping him up, concern evident in her brown eyes. "What the hell were you thinking? Were you trying to kill yourself?"

"No," he lied. All of the lies. "How did you know where I was?"

"That's not important," she muttered, glancing around his small apartment. "What, already give your stuff away?"

"There was nothing to give, and no one to give it to."

Meg grunted, standing up from her crouch. Cass looked like hell, thinner than he used to be. His brown hair was also graying, which made him look older than he was. And then it hit her. _Angels don't age._

"You're human."

He shrugged, not even bothering to acknowledge her surprise. A lot of things can happen when you spend fifteen years in hell. Castiel rummaged around his small living room, picking up his cut rope and undoing the knots.

"What are you gonna do with that."

"It's for me," he replied, using his teeth to get out the fifth coil. "I'm tired, Meg. I'm useless, and I just want it to be over.

She sighed, snatching the rope from him and tossing it. Figgin idiot. "I didn't claw my ass outta hell just to see you kill yourself. Look at you, Cass! You look like a freaking elephant sat on you! You think your life is so bad because you don't have wings anymore? Well tough, I'm not letting you do it."

He looked from his empty hands to her face. "You're serious."

"Damn straight. Look," he keeled beside him again, running a hand though his hair. His neck was bruised, which turned her on a bit, but she had to keep herself under control. For him. "I just got outta hell, and I'm hungry. You look like you haven't eaten in days. Let's get you something to eat, people have to eat."


	2. Chapter 2

She managed to get him to his feet and walk him over to the little dinner table just outside the kitchen. He had bruises on his neck from the ropes, which were turning an ugly shade of purple. He also walked with a slight limp, his muscles probably aching from little-to-no used.

He sat there staring at her, as if he hated her for saving his life. _You're welcome, Dick_, she thought to herself as she rummaged his cabinets. Cat food and tuna.

"You have a cat?" she asked him, watching his head roll from her to the table.

"A rescue. His name is Bub."

"You name him that?"

"Came with it."

She set the tuna can into the old, rusted can opener, the smell attacking her nose as she dug into his drawers, pulling out a plastic spoon.

"Eat," she ordered, setting it down in front on him. "Or I'll shove it down your throat."

"Bitch," he replied, forking it into his mouth.

"Look, Cass, I don't want to play mommy. I came back hoping for an angel. What the hell happened to you?"

He looked up at her, spooning the fork in the fish meat. "You were gone, Sam and Dean were dead…I couldn't handle myself.

I went to heaven to see them. The angels were rebuilding heaven. God even brought Gabriel and Balthazar home. But I wanted to see the Winchesters. They were my family.

And I just…left."

She glared at him. "That's not all."

"No. I went mad. Ripped out my grace. Fell here."

He seemed so miserable. Meg could relate. She spent what felt like thousands of years in hell. Poor bastard.

"You need sleep."

"Don't wanna," he rubbed his forehead. "Sleep makes the days go by faster."

"What if I went with you?"

He looked up at her, his blue eyes shinning for the first time since she'd seen him. "I'd love that."


	3. Chapter 3

The angel was a dick. Not necessarily like the other cloud hoppers she'd met, but he was a bit on the annoying side.

She stood with him on a empty field, the angel's grace rippling through the air.

"So, you though about our terms?" he asked, watching her with rapt interest.

"Save one of yours from another bout of insanity? Sorry, but I had my work cut out with Clarence."

"It's Castiel we speak of," he replied, waiting for her reaction. Satisfied, he continued. "He went human, Meg. After the Winchesters died. Granted he went nuts, but we still care about him."

"Then fix him yourself."

"We can't," he replied, "Castiel will not listen to us. Everyone he knows and trusts is dead. But you. We need you to save him."

"So that's why you brought me back…like this?"  
The angel smiled. "We needed a bargaining chip with you. "One last existence to worry about."

"Alright, I'll do it. But I can't guarantee that Cass will be all over me."

The angel stuck a lollipop in his mouth. "We're counting on you."

—

Castiel's room was almost as bare as his living room, pale blue walls, a full sized bed pressed against the side, Dean's necklace was hanging from the dresser in the other side of the room. He also had a cat bed, void of any cat and a larger pillow beside it, a large black animal sleeping soundly on it's side.

"Who's is that?"

"My dog's."

"You have a dog?!"

"I got lonely."

Castiel seemed to just fall into his bed, moaning a little bit as his neck hit his arm, shocking the bruises. Meg went over to his drawers, fumbling though the neatly folded clothing until she found one of his shirts.

"Those are mine," he commented as he watched her snake her way towards the bed, sliding in beside him.

"I know. I need something until we can shop for me."

"I don't need you to live with me."

"Shut up," she ordered, then shuffling her back into his ribs. She expected him to roll over and ignore her, instead he wrapped his arm around her, savoring her scent.

"I missed you," she heard him whisper, before resting his face on her's, minutes later hearing that familiar snore.

_I think what's sad is_, she thought to herself, wrapping her fingers around his. _Is that I missed you too _


	4. Chapter 4

astiel awoke to the smell of bacon. It wasn't a bad smell, just one he wasn't used to. He was more used to the coffee his land lady boiled in the apartment offices, and the occasional smell of cat food.

Meg was gone from his side. Not that he minded, anyway. A lot of women he'd slept with left the next morning. Just another day in the life of Castiel that would never end.

He also hated sleeping. He hated the loss of consciousness and the dreams it brought.

_Sam and Dean, fighting off the demons._

_Castiel was too late._

_The holy fire the demons trapped him in licked at his coat, burning bits of his flesh._

_He ran. Through the flames. And he collapsed on the ground, his body burnt and crisped, and the scream of the Winchesters loud in his ears. And it was all over_

He still had scars. Gabriel's healing didn't fix him completely. Large, red, web-like scars dotted his chest and arms. It was one of the reasons he never left his apartment without _something _to cover the nasty marks. He was glad it was too dark for Meg to notice them, with the way she'd been acting, it seemed like she would try to scrub them off or something. Annoying.

As he stumbled tiredly into the kitchen, he saw Meg leaning over the stove._ The becon smell_, he remembered.

"We're you gonna sleep all day?" she asked, using a spatula to scrape the bacon from the pan.

"You stayed."

She looked at him, confused. "Stayed?"

"Most women leave. You stayed."

She raised an eyebrow. "Someone has to keep you alive. Now eat."

"Stop telling me what to do," he snapped, yet obeyed. She figured he missed having someone guide him, direct him through a planned course. And he seemed relieved for it.

"Good boy."

"Meg, let me ask you something."

"Yeah."

"You're different."

"Yeah, he said you night notice that. The guy who pulled me out, he did this thing. Purified the demon inside. We're the same now, Cas."

"Guy?"

She smiled. That was the old Cas she adored. "It's not important," she waved him off. "Eat your breakfast."

—

The next few weeks were relativity peaceful. Castiel was returning to a normal weight, no longer looking like a sullen skeleton. Meg was thrilled the first time he actually smiled at her. She was almost convinced he went back to emotionless dickbag.

He still had his ticks, though. She mentioned a lake nearby and he flipped out, overly expressing how unfond of water he was. And one night as she was cooking for him, the flames from the stove sent him into spazz attacks. But after she'd manage to calm him down, he seemed fine, even able to function.

And it was in those times he was the old Cas. Of course, he wasn't as slow on human ideas, but he was an angel again. Just without the mojo.

And he seemed happier, at least. No suicide attempts. She had been told by the land lady that the night she returned wasn't his first try. That the first time she'd clawed him out of a car with the exhaust pouring in.

After that conversation, Meg found herself crying, which wasn't something she'd done in eons.

And after a while they advanced in bed. Castiel seemed tenitive, ashamed of the burn scars that reminded him of the day the Winchesters died. But he soon forgot it as she brought herself down on him, gently kissing and tugging his hair. They started slow, developing a soft rhythm that exploded into a passion Castiel hadn't felt in years. And he embraced it, opening up to Meg and absorbing her.

It was their eightteenth night. And it wasn't going to be the last.


	5. Chapter 5

Meg took to driving the Impala. Now that Sam and Dean were gone, Castiel had her locked away in storage for over six years, and to keep Meg from whining about how she couldn't poof everywhere, he reclaimed it and let her start driving it.

The farthest Castiel had gone to learning to drive was a learner's permit that claimed his name was "Clarence Winchester", which Meg thought was sweet he incorporated both her nickname for him and the Winchester's name as a alias.

But he liked to walk everywhere. And Meg wasn't having it. But there was one place they both walked always, which was the small bar just downtown from his apartment complex.

They would leave the flat at about seven to walk hand-in-hand to the Fill-It Station, a bar converted from an old gas station.

They would have a few drinks, some times a few too many (alcohol was the only way she could get him to agree that sex would be wonderful tonight). And they would return home, bashing and crashing into plants and doors overcome with one another. One of Castiel's neighbors, an elderly woman named Michelle, had already come over to force them to pay for a flower pot they broke (Which Meg also congratulated his strength, for such noodles they had power.

Tonight he had her pressed against the door of their apartment, her legs wrapped around his back as he licked the inside of her mouth. she clawed at his back, her fingernails tracing the scars they bumped underneath his shirt.

Hope this is what you had in mind, Gabriel, she thought silently as Castiel fingered the doorknob beside her. Once they were inside, they maneuvered towards the bedroom, miraculously avoiding the sleeping dog in the middle of the room.

He pressed her onto his bed, digging his teeth into her neck. She let out a sharp noise, before raking her nails down his back. This was their daily routine. This is what they did.

And what Kept Cas alive kept Meg alive.

—

Towards the end of the year Castiel seemed to have pretty much healed up. He smiled, he laughed, and he even managed to leave toe apartment without Meg by his side. And he was enjoying himself.

Buy the time Christmas came around, snow was flitting outside their small windows. Lights littered the downtown area of town, and inflatable santas waved as Meg pulled the Impala into the Northview Cemetery.

It was that time.

Castiel set aside one day where he visited them. Castiel had them buried here because it was one of the prettiest cemeteries. Snow hung on a few of the gravestones not covered by Evergreens, and in the far back, the Winchester's markers. He wore the same suit Dean had bought him for Sam's wedding, covered by the familiar trench coat he only sported for this event.

Meg kept her distance, knowing the ex-angel would want his privacy. As she watched, Castiel dropped the flowers that they had bought fresh from the pharmacy just before arriving. His shoulders heaved once, and he keeled down to the stone's heights. He was saying something, but she couldn't hear. Either way, it was good he was coping. Especially since Sam and Dean were his only purpose for the past twenty years. After he was silent for a while, she went towards him, taking note of the engravings on the boy's stones.

Sam Winchester: Beloved husband, brother.

Dean Winchester: Beloved father, brother.

"We can go now," he said as she placed a hand on his shoulder, a sympathetic look on her face.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I'm good for another year."

Well, that was good to hear. "Okay. We'll go home."

He went with her, shooting the stones a final glance, and sliding into the passenger side of the Impala.


	6. Chapter 6

Hunting was good. It took Cas and Meg's minds away from the boring town they lived in. It also became a source of income, gracious and thankful families would give them food or money as a sort of tip. Whatever helps, Meg would say.

They were in Northern Indiana on a case outside one of the smaller towns that probably didn't have a name. A poltergeist freaking people out, even murdering one sorry individual. And Cas rummaged through the arsenal in the trunk, fingering a shotgun he and Sam made together. Although he wasn't exactly skilled with firearms, Sam and Dean had of course taught him a lot. And having once been an angel helped a bit on hunts.

"Saltrounds?" she asked him as he tossed her a sawed-off.

"Of course."

The rounded the building until they arrived at the room the client claimed was where the haunt took place. breaking down the door, they duo aimed their guns, ready to fire at any random ghost appearance.

Something wasn't right, Cas could feel it in his gut.

"Meg."

"Yeah."

"This isn't-"

"Clarence? Cas!"

He was knocked out on the floor, blood oozing from a hit on his forehead. As she bent down to him, a blunt force whacked her head, causing her to topple over.

—

Meg awoke bound to a chair, Castiel bound across her and still slumped over.

"Alright, come on, I don't have all day."

"You don't order us around," a male voice sounded from behind her. "Not when the king has you and you're boyfriend on his hit list."

Meg shrugged, not even struggling against the ropes. "Fine, take us."

"Oh we will, baby," he was in front of her now. The demon was possessing a man of about thirty who probably could have used a breath mint. He leaned in closer, jabbing the tip of his knife in her throat. "After we have some fun."

"Let her go," Cas's voice, he must have woken up while the demon obscured her view of him. "Take me to the king of Hell."

"No."

Cas blinked, not expecting that. "No?"

"See, we get better pay if we bring in both the bitch who got away, and the angel who double crossed the boss."

Cas shot Meg a glare, who shot one at the demon. "Eat me."

"With pleasure."

"Son of a bitch!" Meg hissed as she broke from her ropes, slicing the demon's neck with her knife. He staggered forward, obviously not expecting her to keep Ruby's knife in her jacket. After cutting Cas free and grabbing his hand, they darted through demons left and right, until the sharp sound of a gunshot and the loosening of Cas's hand made her stop cold. "No…"

He fell back, clutching his chest. Blood poured from the wound, and from the grunts he made, the pain was bad.

Meg raced to him, sliding under the arm that was free and began carrying him through the demon's nest.

They were out of time.


End file.
